


The Library

by chapscher



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cecil is a bit of a dick, Dubious Consent, M/M, Night Vale Public Library, Pre-Carlos, Ritualistic Chanting, Tentacles, mention of implied underage sex, praying during sex may or may not be a kink of Earl's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 04:15:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1804951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chapscher/pseuds/chapscher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil wakes up in Night Vale's Public Library. He discovers that he is not alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Cecil awoke without his blankets, his cheek pressed into rough and musty carpet. There was a distinct scent of mildew in the heavy air and a hint of blood and bile from somewhere unknown. He sat up and found himself in the middle of a long row of bookshelves wearing nothing but the pair of flannel pajama pants he went to bed in.

This was hardly the first time he had awoken in the library, but it had been a while. The last time he was in the library, he was still an intern at Night Vale Community Radio. He had his own show now for several months, and the community was just beginning to get used to him being the new Voice of Night Vale.

Although the thought of being so close to librarians made Cecil’s heart begin to race in fear, as it would any man, he knew that he had to keep moving and find some books to check out. If he didn’t, the librarians would be sure to take his life.

At least, Cecil thought, he had an idea of what books he would be looking into. Next week would be the first History Week he would be researching without his mentor, Leonard Burton. So, arming himself with the nearest sturdy hardback book, Perez’ _Collected Essays on Castration_ , Cecil began to search for the card catalogue.

The Night Vale library was massive. The countless stacks and collections surrounded a main reading room that was filled with dim and broken lights. Desks and torn leather chairs surrounded a central catalog, where some librarians always lingered hungrily. All sections of the library spread out like tendrils from that one central point. Scattered throughout the building where librarian traps and shelters that the scouts and more mechanically-minded library-goers had constructed. Book carts filled with bones and rotting human organs moved slowly and, apparently, without any outside help, through the library.

Although his time as a scout and NVCR intern had prepared him for much of the worst that Night Vale had to offer, Cecil’s stomach churned in immense dread as he walked through the library. There was a distant bloody scream that reminded him of what horrors the librarians were capable of. He stumbled just slightly over a small pile of clothes that were at one point ripped from an unfortunate victim. Cecil knelt down and quietly searched the fabric, a survival technique taught to every schoolchild. A long strip of elastic was carefully removed from discarded boxers. A bloodstone set into a ring was there too, but as Cecil slipped it on, he could feel how weak its power was.

He wasn’t far from the main reading room. Hiding behind a pillar, Cecil could see a librarian sitting at the central catalogue. The librarian’s scaly exoskeleton and razor-sharp spines shone in the low light and cast massive, dark shadows over the catalogue. Cecil’s eyes scanned over the desks until he saw a faint glint of a pen. He smiled to himself. Things were looking up for him. Even though pens and pencils have been banned for years now, the Sheriff’s Secret Police wouldn’t dare step foot into the library – even to confiscate forbidden writing utensils.

He leaned against the pillar, carefully planning the route he would take down into the main reading room. But before he could finish mapping things out, one of the roaming book carts rolled up beside him and gently pressed against his bare shoulder. Cecil startled and turned, only to be hit with the overpowering stench of rotting viscera. Unable to stop himself, Cecil shoved the book cart away and retched loudly, the sound of his strained dry heaves echoing around the main reading room. There was a hiss several rows away, and that was all it took for Cecil to get up and rush down a nearby stairwell and to hide behind a short bookcase on the ground floor. His heart was racing, but he didn’t think that the librarian in the stacks had seen him. After a few moments, he crawled under a desk and hid quietly.

There were others in the library tonight. He could hear them running on the upper floors and crying behind crudely-made shelters. Cecil’s approach to the library was more dangerous than wandering around to find the books you would leave with, but it was much faster. He blindly reached above him for the pen, which he loaded into the makeshift slingshot he crafted from the elastic band and the arms of a broken study chair.

Slipping around the desk and with a quick prayer to the bloodstone that he was still as skilled with a slingshot as he was as a scout, Cecil took aim and fired the pen at the lampshade of a lamp on the other side of the reading room. The lamp fell and the librarian guarding the card catalogue stirred, looking over at the lamp for a moment before slowly getting up and crawling over its desk to investigate it. Cecil rushed to the card catalogue, thankful for the carpeted floor that muffled his footsteps.

His heart was pounding in his ears as his frightened eyes scanned over the small labels on the tiny wooden drawers filled with thousands and thousands of yellowing and bloodstained index cards. The faded print blurred as panic began to take hold of the young radio host, but he managed to find a drawer labeled “Subject: Night Vale Economics – Night Vision.” He pulled it open and ran his fingers over the cards until he found something that read simply “Night Vale History – See _Local History_.”

“Fuck,” he hissed through his teeth as he stuffed the card back in the drawer and started his search over again. Cecil’s tongue lightly tapped against the back of his teeth as he silently formed “L” in his mouth over and over again, hoping he wouldn’t overlook it.

“ _Ceeee-cil_ ,” a quiet voice behind him spoke in a breathy whisper, “ _What are you looking for?_ ”

Cecil’s heart stopped for a moment, knowing not to turn around. The librarian was back and right behind him. It was already too late to hide. The only option was to run, but where to? His eyes came in focus and he saw that his hand, which was wandering over the small drawers, had come to a rest on the brass handle of the exact one he was looking for. Going against his better judgment, Cecil pulled open the drawer.

“ _Do you like books, Ceeeeeeeee-cil?_ ” the voice continued.

He gasped, hardly believing it when the words “Local History” appeared before him on an old and fragile card. A cold and scaly tendril dropped heavily on his shoulder and the faint hint of a breath brushed against his neck.

“ _We can help you, Ceeeee-Ssssssil. All of us will heeeeeeeelp youuuuu._ ”

Without hesitation, he grabbed the card and ran, launching himself over the librarian’s desk. The carpet he ran over was wet and sticky with blood and made a disgusting squish as his feet sunk into it. Behind him, there was a crash and a faint cry of “ _My caaaaardssss!_ ” but he didn’t dare look back. He tripped on the stairs as he ran the four flights up before collapsing in a darkened row in the stacks.

When he caught his breath, he became aware of a dull ache from his ankle and shoulder. He looked down and saw carpet burns on his foot and partway up his leg from when he tripped. Thankfully, running up the steps had wiped the blood from his feet. Curiously, he touched his shoulder and felt thin and shallow cuts from where he pulled away from the librarian’s tendrils. He panicked for a moment before he remembered that the librarians’ venom glands come out through the spines.

The index card was wadded and a little damp from the sweat on his palm, but he had it. He knew where he needed to go and was one step closer to getting home.


	2. Chapter 2

The local history section of the library was well-stocked with books that had paragraphs and pages blacked out by the City Council and the Sheriff’s Secret Police. However, there was still plenty of information available for someone willing to look closely.

Cecil began picking through collections, but for some reason couldn’t find the volumes surrounding Night Vale of the first half of the 20th Century. He couldn’t make History Week if he didn’t have any information from the World Wars or the Great Depression. Growing frantic, Cecil slowly became afraid that the librarians had trapped him. Librarians were violent when they wanted to attack, at least that’s what his teachers and the Scoutmaster told him. Had they changed? Have they learned psychological warfare?

“Cecil?”

That voice. Cecil wished it was the hiss of a librarian rather than that distinct and repulsive voice. He turned his head and saw exactly what he feared he would see. Dirty socks with holes in them covered awkward feet and had the cuff of a pair of grey sweatpants tucked in under the elastic. Small eyes looked out from behind thick-brimmed and smudged glasses.

“Steve Carlsberg,” Cecil greeted back, unable to hide the slight twitch in his eyes and his clenched teeth. “I didn’t know that you wear glasses to _bed_.”

“Oh, I always have my glasses on. Because you never know when you would be abducted by the Sheriff’s Secret Police, or one of the World Governments, or aliens.”

 “And you wear _socks_ to bed,” Cecil continued, standing up and folding his arms. “And you tuck your _sweatpants_ into them.”

"Um, yeah?” Steve said, cocking an eyebrow at Cecil. “Lots of people do? Because people like to have warm feet?”

“So you’re too good for blankets?”

“I don’t trust blankets. Did you know that the government weaves secret codes into them and then that gives them an excuse to break into your home and rummage through your bed things? Or even worse, it gives the aliens an excuse to abduct me in my sleep. I did a lot of research on it and it’s all on my blog.”

“Whatever.”

Cecil’s eyelid twitched again as he looked down to Steve’s arms. They were covered in marks from where he was strapped down for re-education and had a tattoo of the words “FUCK YOU” made to look like a barcode. It was as if he was designed to make the Sheriff’s Secret Police’s jobs difficult. But what really caught Cecil’s attention were the books that Steve Carlsberg was carrying.

“You have _every_ anthology volume on early 20 th Century Night Vale!”

“Shush,” Steve hissed, “the librarians will hear you.”

“But why do you need _all_ of them?”

Steve shifted the books awkwardly. “I’m doing some research for my blog. I have this theory about Al Capone and the formation of the-”

“You can’t take all of them, though. History Week is coming up and I need to write up reports for my show.”

“Well, I got here first. You can have them after me.”

 “Oh Hell no. I’m not coming back here just because you’re so greedy that you need to take all the books. You can put off writing about that conspiracy theory.”

“But you don’t understand, Cecil. This is just the start of a larger idea that involves the Masons and Blackwater and Mt. Everest and-”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, nobody reads your stupid blog.”

Steve looked like he had just been slapped across the face and, for a moment, as if he was about to start crying. The corner of Cecil’s mouth twitched up hopefully while he began to think of something to slam his point home and maybe see a few tears. But his smile faded as a knowing smirk appeared across Steve’s lips.

“I see what this is about,” he said, his voice grinding like a stone wheel against Cecil’s nerves. “You’re upset because I’m dating your ex.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Cecil snapped back, although he knew that the blush on his shoulders was very visible.

“I’m talking about Earl Harlan. You know, the redheaded Scout Leader soon-to-be Scoutmaster who you just seemed to be too busy for.”

“I wasn’t ‘too busy’ for Earl. It’s just that my radio job is in the evening and that his scout work is in the morning and afternoon. We had no time to do anything. It wasn’t like we really _had_ anything in that sense.”

“So you call it ‘casual sex’ or what?”

“You know, I don’t recall my sex life being any of your business,” Cecil said through clenched teeth. He grabbed half of the books out of Steve’s arms. “But if we’re going to talk about this, then what made him decide to go out with you? Was it your stupid haircut? Your greasy skin? Or was it how you have a free schedule because no business in this city wants to hire you for more than three weeks?

“You’re a charity case, Steve Carlsberg. And the only reason why anyone in this town tolerates you at all is because sweet people like Earl pity you. But I’ll tell you what we’re all really thinking. Your baseless, stupid, government-bashing theories attack every decent citizen in this town. Yes, even Earl. Nobody really likes you, Steve. Why don’t you just move to Desert Bluffs already?”

Steve grabbed the books back from Cecil, a few falling to the floor. “You’re just jealous because it wasn’t until Earl started dating someone else that you realized you gave up a good thing.”

“I didn’t ‘give him up,’” Cecil said, grabbing the books from Steve. “He needed someone who could give him the time he deserves. You were available. But, you know what, _anyone_ in Night Vale would be better than you.”

“But not _you_ , apparently.”

At that, all of the books except for Perez’ _Collected Essays on Castration_ , which Cecil still carried with him, fell to the floor. The young radio host rose the book above his head and was about to bring it down on Steve as hard as he would any librarian, but Steve knocked it out of his hand.

“Struck a nerve, I see?” he pressed with a smirk, grabbing Cecil’s wrist.

Cecil pulled back and punched Steve hard in the chest with his free hand. “Gods, you are repulsive. Why are you so abhorrent? It’s unnatural how nauseating every aspect of your being is.”

Steve lunged at Cecil, knocking him down and elbowing him roughly in the ribs. Cecil grabbed at the other man’s short hair to pull him off, but was immediately disgusted at how oily it was in his hands. His eyes widened as Steve leaned in and dug his arm into Cecil’s throat.

“Why don’t you get off your high-horse?” Steve said lowly, pinning Cecil to the musty carpet. “You’re no better than any other AM radio DJ from any other hick town in this nation.”

Cecil’s eyes flashed and he grabbed one of the hardcover anthologies. He struck Steve hard in the ribs with it, knocking him over onto the floor. Overcome with rage, Cecil didn’t give it a second thought as he straddled Steve’s chest and grabbed him by the sweat-stained collar of his sleeveless undershirt.

“ _My_ high-horse?” Cecil growled, lifting Steve by the collar for a moment before letting go and watching his head slam against the floor. “I’m not the one who acts like he’s too good for this town. _I’m_ not the one who accuses everyone of being in some sort of conspiracy. _I’m_ not the one who bogs down every goddamn conversation complaining about every little thing the government does.”

Steve let out a soft cry as Cecil reached down and started to choke him. Years of anger were finally coming out in one chance meeting at the library. Every lecture Steve had given him on the “incompetence” of the Sheriff and the City Council, every grammatically disastrous letter sent to the radio station, and every unacceptably dry scone all rushed back to Cecil in a concentrated loathing that completely overwhelmed him.

“Nobody likes you. In fact, I hate you,” he said, tightening his grip and grabbing the heaviest book he could find.

Nobody would have to know. They’ll just think it’s a librarian.

“I. Hate. You,” Cecil repeated, letting his voice and lips surround each word, enjoying their taste in his mouth. “I hate you,” he said again, a little louder this time. He raised the book over his head and was ready to bring it down. “I hate you! _I hate you!_ _I HATE YOU, STEVE CARLSBERG!_ ”

He froze, hearing his own booming voice echo throughout the otherwise quiet library. There was a moment of the most complete silence Cecil had ever heard before a soft “ _ssh_.” Then there was another “ _shh_ ” and another. Dozens of voices all saying “ _shh_ ” grew closer and closer, surrounding him. The light at the end of the row of books exploded, and then the next light.

Suddenly, the book was pulled away from Cecil and he felt a rough hand close around his wrist, but when he looked up, he saw nothing there. Then, in the next moment, Earl Harlan flickered into sight, holding the book in one hand and Cecil’s wrist in the other. The bloodstone pendant fastening his neckerchief was glowing, casting his face in a sort of light that made Cecil wonder how much of the conversation was heard.

Earl tugged Cecil off of Steve before taking his boyfriend by the hand and helping both men to their feet. The “ _shh_ ” and the shadows were getting closer, spines and tendrils visible in the low lights. They were surrounded.

But in the next moment, they all stopped and slinked back into the stacks and down into the main reading room. Earl didn’t say a word as he led them down the stacks of books to a shelter near the Bird and Helicopter Watching Guides.

“Wow,” Steve whispered once they got in the shelter. “You’re really nailing that invisibility badge that Scoutmaster is having you make.”

Cecil smiled gently at Earl. “Invisibility badge?” he echoed, trying to forget it was Steve who mentioned it as he felt a spark of pride.

“Cecil,” Earl said coldly. “Atlases. It’s in section G. Just wait for me there, I want to talk to you.”

“I-”

“Go, Cecil. Now.”

Cecil quietly stepped back, but didn’t want to turn away as he saw Steve draw Earl close and kiss his neck. The blinding rage began to rush through Cecil’s veins as Steve glanced over Earl’s shoulder and gave a mocking smirk. Before Cecil could do anything more he could regret, they heard a librarian trudge down the hall and Earl disappeared inside the shelter, pulling Steve in with him.


	3. Chapter 3

It was dark in the rows of atlases, the massive books arranged oddly on their specialized shelves. Some of them were dripping briny water, which came off the pages in steady droplets and slid down the shelves to small puddles on the floor.

Sitting against a pillar, Cecil could hear the shifting of librarians wandering the rows of books. But the atlases were surrounded by librarian traps and were one of the safer sections in the library. The scent of burnt coffee and NyQuil drifted through the books, a constant reminder of the librarians and the ever-present danger.

As he obediently waited for Earl, Cecil slowly began to feel sick to his stomach. He was never a violent person and as much as he hated Steve Carlsberg, he never thought that he was capable of even _wanting_ to strangle and bludgeon him to death. But only a few minutes ago, he was about to. And what made it all so much worse is that Earl saw it.

Part of Cecil wanted to blame the radio station. If he had enough time, he and Earl could have been as close as they used to be and then none of this would have happened. However, Cecil knew that he couldn’t be separated from the station just as Earl couldn’t be separated from the scouts. He had always wanted to be the Voice of Night Vale, but he didn’t realize how lonely he would have to become first.

Cecil looked up as he heard something hit one of the bookshelves a few rows away. There was a hushed growl of a librarian before he heard the thump again, closer this time. He heard it once more, this time almost above him, and looked up. Crouched on top of the bookcase was Earl, who looked down at Cecil before jumping to the floor. His bloodstone and neckerchief were gone, leaving him in his sleeping scout uniform. Cecil was about to get up, but Earl motioned him to stay seated. The scout leaned against the pillar and silently slid to the floor, sitting beside Cecil. Neither of them spoke.

Nervous, Cecil looked over to Earl. The scout’s black and ruby eyes were cast downwards, strands of his red hair hung over his freckle-dusted face. If someone had done to Earl what Cecil had just done to Steve, he would have been furious. But Earl was silent and lost in thought.

“So,” Cecil said, looking at the floor and picking at a loose thread on his pajama pants. “I’m sorry about… um… trying to kill your boyfriend. That was… that was wrong of me. And I… I apologize.” Earl didn’t make any motion to acknowledge him, so Cecil kept speaking. “It was… completely… my fault.”

“It’s okay.” Cecil glanced over at Earl, not sure if he heard that correctly. Earl shook his head and furrowed his brow. “No. Wait. It’s not okay. And you should be apologizing to Steve and…” He stopped and rubbed his face, sweeping his hair to the side before turning to Cecil. “Look, I’m pissed, but I also have a lot of things on my mind. Can you just _pretend_ that I gave you some harsh words and _act_ like a reasonable adult around Steve?”

“Okay.”

Earl nodded, sleepily and with a false contentment.

“Can I stop acting like a reasonable adult after you break up with him?”

He chuckled and shook his head, eyes closed and head resting against the pillar.

“Are you sure? I promise not to try to kill him again.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Cecil,” Earl muttered, lazily opening one eye. “Well… he is, I suppose. But only using the most generous possible definition of the term.” He sat up a little and met Cecil’s eyes. “Steve and I don’t have what we did.”

“So it’s not serious?”

Earl shook his head. “Not for me, not for him. We go out every now and again. I talk about the scouts and he talks about this latest research. We go back to his place and things lead… wherever they lead. It’s not romantic as much as it’s… convenient.”

“It just seems unlike you. I mean… we could do those things. I just need some time to adjust my schedule. After History Week, though.”

He shook his head again before sighing. “Next week, the scouts will be announcing who the next scoutmaster will be out of the three candidates. A scoutmaster cannot pursue relationships outside of the scouts. It is a duty to the organization and the country. Besides, you know how much it means to me.”

“Earl, you can still work closely with the scouts. I know the boys look up to you. I mean, it’s not like it’s been announced yet. It might be someone else while you continue to be one of the leaders and the Head of Scout Affairs.”

“They already told me I would get the position, Cecil.” Their eyes met and the corner of Earl’s mouth twitched up in a forced smile. “The City Council summoned and informed me two months ago. I’ve been planning the new badges ever since. That’s also when I started spending more time with Steve. There’s just so much on my mind and I needed to talk to someone. To be with someone.”

Cecil shifted so they were facing each other. “You could have come to me, Earl.”

“I didn’t because I remembered what happened when I came to you after I earned the position of Scout Leader.” He smiled gently and placed a hand on Cecil’s knee. “I always came home exhausted and kept falling asleep during your show. I felt horrible for it and you deserve better than that.” Earl shrugged and scooted a little closer to Cecil. “Besides, I wanted it to be a surprise.”

 “Don’t you think that you being with Steve was enough of a surprise?”

 “I wish my two closest friends didn’t hate each other.”

"Congratulations on your upcoming promotion, though.”

 “I don’t think you listen sometimes.” Earl chuckled and arched his back, letting his hand slide down Cecil’s knee and onto his thigh. “Do you remember that one time when we went out to the desert with those furs because we wanted to feel what it was like to be a 4000 BC Night Valeian? We took off our clothes and lay on the furs, watching the shimmering dark shapes in the distance and then lighting a fire and staring up into the void.”

“I remember.”

The scout moved a little closer. “That was before so many of your tentacles became permanently ink on your arms. You wrapped them around me and I felt you everywhere at once. You slid them down my back, just like…” he blushed and gasped softly. “And then one slid up around my shoulder and into my mouth. It was warm, wet, and thick. There were two that opened my legs. And then there were the ones that loosened me before you pressed in.”

Cecil felt the light tingle of blush creep across his cheeks and spread over his shoulders. He shifted a little, trying to hide his body’s response to Earl’s memories. “Why are you telling me this, Earl?”

“I just want you to know that I’ll miss it too. But it needs to be left in the past now. I don’t need to be reconsidering becoming Scoutmaster the week before I’ll be accepting the position. So I can’t, Cecil. I’m sorry.” His hand left Cecil’s thigh and began to lightly trace over the tentacle tattoos on his arms and chest. He chuckled warmly before leaning in and whispering into Cecil’s ear. “That’s your cue to take your tentacle off my back.”

“What?”

“I’m flattered, but I can’t do this, Cece.”

“Earl, I haven’t had tentacles since I was eighteen.”

Black and red eyes widened and Earl gripped Cecil’s arm. “Cecil, I-”

Cecil gasped as a wet, black tentacle slipped out from under Earl’s collar and pressed past the scout’s parted lips and pinned him to the pillar. Cecil grabbed the tentacle and tugged it out of Earl’s mouth, wanting to pull Earl away. But as he did, three more tentacles emerged from behind the pillar to grab Earl.

“What the hell is that?!” Earl gasped, a drop of indigo and oily fluid secreted by the tentacle lingering on his lower lip.

Cecil gripped the tentacle tightly as he looked around the pillar and saw a large puddle of the atlases’ salty water with tentacle after tentacle lifting out of it and finding Earl. The one Cecil held began to coil around his wrist as he leaned over the growing puddle to try to see what was below the dark water. He tugged on one of the tentacles, hoping to pull whatever it belonged to up to the surface. It fought him, and as Cecil kept dragging it onto the wet carpet, it seemed to go on forever. He picked one of the drier atlases off the shelf and began hitting the tentacles with it, but they just pulled it away from him and dragged it down into the seemingly bottomless puddle. Cecil was just about to reach for another one, but the tentacle that was wrapped around his arm pulled him back to the scout.

“Earl!”

Earl Harlan was held to the pillar by about a half-dozen wet and muscular tentacles. They bugled and writhed under his shirt, one stuffed into his mouth, and all of them secreting slick, indigo oil. Earl’s eyes were wide and terrified, a heavy blush washing over his neck, ears, and cheeks. Cecil grabbed the tentacle and pulled it out of the other man’s mouth, hearing a soft choke as inch after inch was pulled out of his throat.

“What are they?!” Earl gasped, catching his breath and trembling. His saliva turned black as it mingled with the oil and trailed in a thin line to the tip of the tentacle Cecil had just pulled out of him.

“I don’t know,” Cecil said, trying to keep other tentacles out of Earl’s mouth. “There’s this huge puddle some of the atlases had made and they’re all coming out of that. Where’s your bloodstone? Can’t you force them away with that?”

Earl squirmed, trying to free himself. “I gave it to Steve so he could get back home with the books. He left a while ago. And I… Cecil, I have a theory.”

“Shoot.”

“I think they know what I was talking about before they…”

Cecil reached under Earl’s shirt and began pulling the wet and meaty appendages off him. “Earl?”

Earl rolled his hips and tried to push himself off the pillar. “Because one’s down the back of my shorts.”

Cecil’s eyes widened and he reached around Earl to grab the tentacle that had slipped under the elastic band of the scout-issued sleeping shorts. It coiled up Cecil’s arm and held him tightly.

“Cecil, get out of here.”

“I’m not leaving you like this.”

“They’ll just take you t-” he squirmed and rolled his hips again. “Cecil, there’s another one.”

Cecil tried to reach back behind Earl, but the tentacles on his arms held him back. Four long appendages pried Earl’s legs open and the scout cringed and struggled to pull away. Suddenly, he tensed up and his eyes widened in horror as he opened his mouth to cry out, but once he did, one slipped into his mouth again to muffle his scream.

“Earl, listen,” Cecil said, trying to pry the tentacles off his arms as the dark oil caked under his short fingernails. “You’re going to be okay. I’m going to get it out of you… once I get these fucking things off me.”

The tentacles pulled Cecil between his friend’s legs while Cecil tried to muscle his way through their hold to help Earl. He managed to get an arm behind Earl and started to tug on the tentacle that had slipped into him. At the same time, he leaned forward to Earl’s mouth and bit down on the tentacle obstructing it. It was meaty, warm, and left slick oil on his lips as his teeth dug into the soft flesh. The appendage pulled out quickly, making Earl gag as it slipped out of his throat and mouth. The two young men breathed heavily into each other’s shoulders while the tentacle that had slipped into Earl’s shorts pressed deeper into him.

“This is my fault,” Cecil muttered, the indigo oil leaving small stains on Earl’s neck as he spoke against it. “I’m sorry, Earl. Oh gods, I’m sorry.”

“Cecil.”

The tentacles pressed Cecil just a little closer to Earl, Cecil’s breath hitching as he felt the other man’s obvious arousal against his leg. Earl’s face was buried against Cecil’s shoulder, the soft pressure of his panting breaths ghosting along his back and neck. Cecil had been with several men ever since he had become the Voice of Night Vale; but none of them lasted and none were anywhere near as personal or affectionate as Earl had been. His scout sleeping shirt had been pulled up by the appendages that surrounded them and both were struck by the sudden warm contact of skin against skin.

“Cecil.”

Cecil’s eyes drifted closed as he felt Earl Harlan’s fingers brush against his hair and lightly caress the back of his neck. Warm lips lazily kissed along his jaw until their mouths met, the dark oil mixing between them. The tentacles lifted and suspended the two of them above the musty carpet of the library, the gentle weight of Cecil’s body rested against Earl. Cecil’s hand slid under Earl’s shirt again, taking time to feel the scars that streaked across his skin.

His fingers trailed down Earl’s body and tugged down at the waistband of the scout’s sleeping shorts. Earl moaned softly into Cecil’s mouth, neither man wanting to back away and let the tentacles slip past their lips again. Cecil’s palm rubbed against Earl’s arousal, his fingertips sliding up along the shaft to toy with his beading and sensitive slit. A spasm of surprised pleasure jolted through Earl as he arched his body towards him.

The two kissed deeply and pulled at clothes that were stained and slick with oil. The tentacles slid across Cecil’s back and down to press curiously at his entrance and stroke his erection. Earl’s hands followed for a moment before they were claimed by the tentacles again and pinned behind his back.

One hand gripping tight to Earl’s silky and ginger hair and eager lips kissing down Earl’s neck, Cecil slid his hand down the scout’s body, over his hip, and between his legs. He roughly pulled a tentacle out of Earl before shoving two of his fingers inside of him. There was a muffled moan as Earl tried to cry out in pleasure through his pursed lips, tendrils lightly brushing against his cheeks. Earl’s legs strained against the grip of the tentacles, trying to pull Cecil closer. Instead, his spread legs were lifted and his knees brought almost to his chest. The blush that had already covered his pale and freckled body darkened.

“Earl,” Cecil murmured into warm skin. A narrow tentacle slid into Earl alongside Cecil’s fingers, pulling them in deep. Letting go of the scout’s hair, Cecil leaned back against the mass of tentacles behind him and looked down at Earl. He was breathless, streaked in dark oil, and had a twitching erection. Cecil gently bowed his head down and ran his wet lips along Earl’s shaft.

The tentacles surrounded the two young men, wrapping tightly around their chests and caressing the backs of their necks. Earl’s hips rolled gently, pressing himself against Cecil’s mouth.

Cecil lifted his head, looking up as the scout’s lips parted just slightly and a tentacle pressed into his mouth. The thick tentacle slipped in and out of him, indigo oil slowly running out the corners of his lips. Cecil felt Earl press against his fingers, the sound of a muffled groan reverberating against the writhing tentacles.

Stroking himself, Cecil positioned himself to press into Earl, but the scout was pulled away from him. Earl gasped for breath as the tentacle slid out of his mouth. He was turned onto his stomach, the tentacles coiling around his ankles, spreading his legs, and bending him over.

“Cecil,” he moaned, arms still pinned behind his back.

Cecil grabbed him by the waist and pulled him close; lining his erection up with Earl’s loosened entrance. He pressed in, the tentacles guiding the two men closer until Cecil was buried up to the hilt in the scout leader. Earl groaned, twitching around the radio host as they were suspended by the tentacles only a few feet above the floor. As Cecil slowly began to thrust, the tentacles swayed, moving them on a water-like rhythm.

Looking up, he saw Earl’s bare arms struggle against the tentacles that pinned them behind his back. Cecil reached around and roughly gripped the scout leader’s cock, the indigo oil lubricating his hand as he gave Earl the friction he needed. Earl stopped struggling, he moaned low and rolled his hips as much as the restrictive tentacles would let him.

Cecil panted heavily as he buried himself deep into Earl’s core. He was very aware of the possibility that neither of them could live very much longer. That they could be pulled into the seemingly bottomless puddle and drown as these countless appendages surrounded them; strangling, intruding, and binding. Only their torn and stained clothes would be left as a memory of their time in the public library. He was very aware that fucking Earl, bound and suspended by this eldritch abomination, could be his final voluntary act; a final moment of affection that could double as a final “fuck you” to Steve Carlsberg.

“Oh merciful gods, Cecil.”

The radio host looked up as he heard Earl. The tangle of limbs and panic made him almost not realize how silent the scout leader had been. Usually Earl had to bury his face in a pillow to keep the scouts in nearby tents from hearing his screams. None of Cecil’s lovers had ever made his neighbors pound on the walls more than Earl had. He was as loud as he was tight as he was enthusiastic.

Earl gasped in pleasure, his body trembling and twitching around the other man. “Ye knowing beams and masters of us all, blessed be.”

Cecil growled as he felt Earl quiver around him. “Sacrilege,” he hissed. “A good little scout would report immediately to The Dark Box for immediate reeducation.”

“It’s your fault I’m like this.”

“An embarrassment to the organization. Why would they ever promote a filthy little whore who only prays to come?”

Both men gasped as the tentacles bound them tighter and began fucking Earl on Cecil’s stilled and aching erection. Gasps and half-cries were forced out of the scout leader as he was repeatedly impaled on his former lover.

Earl trembled as each word was punctuated by the tentacles’ manipulation. “From The Void earthward, let eternal emptiness descend in the ponderous oscillations as giant moths into the hearts of men.”

“You’re going to hell,” Cecil growled, his hips bound by the muscular tentacles as the other man was moved against him. “Quite possibly in several religions.”

“We pray your powers will soon swallow us whole in a great digestive union of the obedient and the trespassers.”

“Not even dead yet and you’re begging for your heaven orgy.” One of the tentacles freed Cecil’s hand, which immediately grasped at bright red hair.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” Earl hissed. “Steve never pulls my hair.”

Cecil tugged hard and the tentacles released Earl’s arms, guiding him upright until his warm, freckled back was resting against Cecil’s chest. They still bound themselves around Earl’s thighs, making him ride the radio host’s erection.

Cecil balled his fist in red hair as he whispered lowly into Earl’s neck, “don’t you ever fucking talk about what _Steve Carlsberg_ is like in bed.”

“Oh,Cecil. Oh merciful powers, take our will from us and incinerate our hearts.”

The oil slid between the two men as Cecil thrust into the scout leader, his suspended body feeling almost weightless. Tentacles coiled around and rubbed against Earl’s arousal. He gasped Cecil’s name, his body straining against the grip of the appendages that surrounded him.

“Bend us to your every desire and whim, for we are slaves to your power and glory.”

“Fuck, Earl. I’m close.”

“ _I_ _n saecula saeculorum_.”

“Merciful powers.” Cecil slipped his hand down from Earl’s hair to grip onto his cock and pump him, fingers mingling with writing tentacles.

“So let it be.”

There was a bright red flash and the two men fell to the ground, Earl crying out and shaken as they lay on the floor. Looking up, they saw the tentacles that once held them begin to retreat back behind the pillar. The two watched as the appendages slowly backed away, leaving only wet and oily residue. They sat on the floor, panting and listening to the sudden stillness of the library.

“What the fuck was that?” Cecil whispered.

Earl shook his head. “It was a bloodstone, but I sent mine home with Steve.”

“I don’t sleep with one.”

Weak, Earl looked down to the other man’s hand and saw a small ring with a dimly glowing stone set in it. “Cecil, why didn’t you say something?” Cecil followed his gaze down to the ring. “We could have gotten them off of us earlier. We could have gotten home.”

“I forgot I had it. I just found it when I woke up here.”

“Was that the hand you were giving me a reach-around with?”

The last tentacle dragged itself behind the pillar, making a soft splash as it fell back into the puddle it came from. Cecil gently guided Earl so they were sitting against the wall, still completely naked and stiff. Earl gently took the ring from Cecil’s finger and slipped it onto his own before straddling Cecil’s hips.

“I don’t want to leave you like this,” Earl murmured, taking both of their erections in a coarse hand. “You’re a bastard and tried to kill Steve, but I can’t leave you like this.”

“Earl…”

Cecil bit his lip as Earl gripped him and rubbed their cocks together. He was on the edge again, finally free to roll his hips and grip at Earl. Groping hands slid down the curve of Earl’s back to lightly prod into his loose and open entrance. The scout leader braced himself above Cecil, breathing heavily as he took control.

“My Earl,” Cecil panted, clenching his teeth as the other man’s fingertip pressed against the head of his prick and toyed with his slit.

“Don’t hold back,” Earl whispered sharply against Cecil’s shoulder. From somewhere in the library there were screams and the distinct scratching of librarians.

Cecil’s cry was muffled as Earl’s lips pressed roughly against his own. His come spilled onto his stomach and slipped between Earl’s fingers. Blindly grasping at skin and scrambling for friction against the other man’s arousal, Cecil trembled helplessly under his former lover.

Moving up Cecil’s body, Earl rubbed his ass against Cecil’s spent cock. A deep kiss turned rough as each man pulled at the other’s hair and Earl pumped himself. He pressed Cecil’s body against the cold wall and bit at his lip as he came. Thick white ropes of come fell onto Cecil’s chest, gently rising and falling as he caught his breath.

Earl rested against him, their warm breaths ghosting against sensitive skin. Neither man held the other, but just rested in silence, not moving.

Cecil looked down as Earl gently took him by the arm, the ring glowing. Just barely, he could hear Earl whispering a soft prayer. Everything seemed to flicker a deep but comforting red before the library dissolved around him. His mind went blank, but not from a post-orgasmic haze. In an instant, Cecil could no longer keep his eyes open any longer and he fell asleep. There was a brief and forgotten moment when he felt his mattress gently meet his numbing body.

 

* * *

 

 

When Cecil awoke late the next morning, he was alone in his own bed and there was a small note and a small bloodstone ring left beside his alarm clock.

 

_Cece,_

_I will drop some of Steve’s books off at the radio station later today. You probably won’t do it, but I still think you should apologize for nearly killing him last night._

_Good luck with History Week._

_Yours,_

_Earl_

_P.S. You would think that the number of times I have chanted for you that you would remember at least one simple prayer that could recharge a bloodstone._


End file.
